Wind of tragedy sounds so melodic
filled or torn by sweet lyrics
Life and destiny seem so easier
than puppet squares and theater

Dolls are lynched by heartless brothers
Yellow tears and stuttering talkers
Say me if the beard is real
and if come tonight he will

Sunshine dusts, icecream, a sundea
and all my fears will go away
My glance toward white clouds and high trees
God spits some cold droplets on me

Don’t waste your time and saliva
On politic and capital era
Just sing me a lullaby
To forget that I grow, still lie

Dad, make dark the skies
For my sleepy eyes